My Cousin Next Door

CHAPTER 4

I climb into bed with a sense of victory, happy with my new home and how it looks. Before I usually go to my ex-boyfriend and I never go to our house cause usually I stay with him. Sometimes I go home just to have my clothes.

I've never enjoyed my room before and now I did.

I met Ethan from my university and after a year of dating, we decided that we should live together and after wasteful four years. YES, the cheating happened and we broke up. Can’t believe the church guy I knew would do that kind of thing. Looks like the four years are not enough to know him.

Now I can't simply walk away from a four-year in perfect relationship who’s been fake all this time and expect to have my old self back within a matter of weeks. The first year of our relationship is so far so good. He also invited me to his church and joined them. Everything was perfect not until I found out that I had been betrayed for almost a year. This kind of recovery can take months. Years, even. Or so all the self-help leaflets say. I haven't had control over my finances in so long and as a result, I'm battling with numerous money blocks. I have it. Money, I mean. It's the ability to spend it on things that aren't food or home essentials that I don't have.

"Forget about it Rachelle," I state, hoping that by saying it out loud, I somehow diminish the thought.

I reposition myself into a seated position in and amongst my sheets and close my eyes, attempting to reach optimum relaxation. Once there, I repeat my daily mantra over and over until I'm sick of the sound of my voice.

"I am strong, successful and I can live without dickhead boys who only know how to hurt me.”

I'm on my seventh loop when a consistent banging takes place against my bedroom wall, exactly like last night. I immediately open my eyes and gawk, thinking he can't be f*****g serious.

"JUST KIDDING! No s*x for today" I hear him shout.

I can't help but laugh.

"I hate you!" I yell, smirking so much it hurts.

I collapse back onto my bed and smile up at my ceiling. When I was younger, My favorite shape was simply dots and honestly that is my dream tattoo before a four dots tattoo. I also write on the wall of our old house.

Visit Paris in the summer, Rachelle, and get a tattoo!

Maybe this idea is based on what I accidentally watched, which is my favorite movie, Young Deber, who had a tattoo at a young age. Well, Deber is a badass teenage girl who doesn't care about everyone.

If young Rachelle could see me now, I wonder what she'd think? Would she be impressed? People tell me I'm brave and should be proud. And I'm trying to be, but something feels missing. How can I be proud when part of me still hates myself for what happened? For what I allowed to happen. Nan raised me with strong beliefs and a firm attitude. She'd be ashamed if she knew the true extent of what went on behind closed doors.

"Hey, Rachelle?"

Jay's despite being separated by a wall is very clear.

"Yeah?"

It feels strange having a conversation this way.

"I'm glad you got out."

I remain silent, though do let slip a small smile. I have a feeling this isn't police officer Jay talking, but rather concerned Jay. Jay, I remember meeting you at the hospital last year. The man with generous eyes and a soft smile. Well, our family had a huge participation in almost half of the police in our village. Most of our relatives are working as police officers.

"I thought about you a lot,” he admits.

"Why?"

"You just pop up on my mind."

I don't know what to say.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Not really," I reply. Cannot lie to this person, especially at this point.

It's the first time I've answered that question with honesty. Perhaps it is because I'm feeling particularly in tune with my emotions tonight. Or maybe it's because I'm talking to a literal brick wall? Either way, it feels good to tell the truth for once.

"Neither am I," he replies, voice sad.

I don't pry for information or insult him by saying it'll all be fine. Instead, I respond the only way I know how.

"Hey, Jay."

"Yeah?"

"I thought about you a lot too," I share, focusing on the floral pattern on my bedding. Its colors remind me of spring.

"I like that," he says.

I hate not knowing what he looks like right now. What position is he in? I can only go off my imagination and I'm imagining him lying in bed like me, staring up at his ceiling. I detect a slight sadness in his tone and hate that I can't do anything to help. Perhaps that's how he feels when he sees me?

"Night, Jay."

No more is said between the walls. I continue to stare up at my ceiling and reiterate the promises I once made to myself, only now with a slight alteration.

“Okay, Rachelle. You will have a tattoo!” I tell myself before I close my eyes.

***

I grab my purse and keys, ready to head out for a shift at the hospital. It's another sweltering day and my Donald Duck scrubs are not considering the high temperatures. I've barely made it out my front door and I'm already overheated. Thankfully, my ankle touches something cool and when I look down, I find a bottle of milk on my doorstep. I guess Jay spoke to Dan about getting me on the milk list.

I'll have to thank him later.

I plan to shove it in my fridge when I sneak a peek at Jay's front door. His milk is still on his doorstep and without intending it a cunning plan is formulated. I quickly snatch his milk and shove it in my fridge to keep it cool. I then scribble a note on a piece of paper, reading it through once done.

If you want your milk

back, come to number

eight at 6 PM with an apology.

I feel strangely giddy as I push the note through Jay's letterbox. I haven't done anything this fun in years and by fun, I mean stealing someone's milk for ransom. I wish I could be there to see his face when he reads the note, but I'm happy going off my imagination. I suspect he'll laugh, but that's before realizing he has no milk left for his morning coffee. I have a feeling Jay is a coffee drinker and that's what makes this plan all the better. Still, he

deserves it after keeping me up. night.

"You look happy," states Kim, another nurse.

She joins me in the elevator, no doubt heading to the break room. The John Radcliffe Hospital is three floors high and has conveniently placed its staff area as far away as possible. Sometimes, by the time I finally get there, the break is over.

"Just happy to see you, of course." She rolls her eyes and nudges my hip.

"How is the new place?"

Kimberly is the only one who knows the truth behind why I had to go back to my hometown.

"Great. I never noticed before the milk service."

She frowns. "That's random."

"And useful," I insist.

She smiles, checking her Apple watch. "If you say so."

"How was the night shift?" I ask, catching myself up.

"Asual, busy."

Saturday night I expect nothing less.

"A&E was manic. Amy got puked on."

I screw my face in disgust. "Is she okay?"

"Traumatised."

I laugh. Amy is the type who takes pride in her appearance and to her, the thought of being puked on is barbaric.

The elevator arrives on the third floor and as though summoned Amy appears.

"Rachelle!”

"Rachelle."

“Hey?”

"Did you hear?"

I nod.

"f*****g outrageous. I'm quitting!"

I slap her on the arse. "Yeah, yeah!"

"You're lucky it wasn't s**t," intervenes Kimberly, straight-faced.

She and I went to university together, and I remember back then it was her bluntness that drew me to her. She's the most gorgeous person I know, inside and out, but boy can she handle herself. Mess with Kimberly and it's the last thing you'll do. I'll be honest, I'm surprised Josh is still walking after I told her everything.

"Has that happened to you?" asks Amy, horrified.

Kimberly nods. "Oh, yeah. Multiple times."

Amy only qualified earlier this year and is still learning the ropes. She's dedicated though, and a f*****g fantastic asset.

"Are you home?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"SLEEP!" orders Kimberly

"Please," replies Amy. "I need at least five showers before I can sleep."

Kimberly and I laugh the entire time we walk to the break room, amused.

"You're much happier today," she says.

"I've not seen you laugh this much in a long time."

I smile.

"It suits you, Rachelle."

"What does?"

"Happiness."